


Faceless

by VincentMeoblinn



Series: Satyr Fics [5]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Addiction, Anal, Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fawnlock, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral, Prostitution, Racism, Triggers, Vaginal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John visits a Satyr brothel to perk himself back up after coming home a broken man. He quickly becomes addicted to the scent of Satyr Heats and returns again and again, throwing away his pension until a Buck takes pity on him and helps him recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faceless

 

John hated himself for wanting it so badly, but it had devolved into a kind of _need_ that shamed him entirely. The first scent had made him dizzy: so much so that he’d fled the whorehouse without getting what he’d paid for. They’d laughed at him as he bolted out the door, rock hard and panting for it. He’d gone home and wanked himself into oblivion. The next week he returned, paid up, and headed in to view the rows upon rows of stalls.

They were clean, at least. He’d been appalled at first, but the hay seemed to be there for looks only, and so was the rest of the décor for that matter. It was all to give a sense that they weren’t higher thinking creatures, but of course Satyr had been proven to be just that. They’d added to it by having their faces hidden, which explained the name of the establishment. Each stall had a hole, in a various location to accommodate the sexual position of the Fawn inside, and each Fawn’s head was hidden within. It was a split door in the rear of the stall with a half-circle cut out of each door latched and padlocked door, some of them meeting in the middle while others were uneven. The Bucks and Does were literally trapped in them, their necks given enough room to breathe without allowing them to free their heads. John was horrified and walked up to the first, a Doe on her hands and knees, and leaned over her to ask if she needed help.

“Only with this itch between my nether-lips!” She declared, “Please, sir! It’s hurts! Fill me!”

And John was buried inside of her before reason could lend itself further. Her pussy was soaked to the point of dripping, the scent of heat rolling off of her in waves as he thrust into her again and again. She pushed back onto him as much as she could, moaning and fingering her clit until she came around his cock, sucking and squeezing him until he was done for, coming into her and screaming in pleasure. He pulled out, legs shaking, and she continued to finger herself and moan for more. He stumbled away, drunk on her scent and still hard despite his release.

Over and again he came back. He found out there _were_ some who were unwilling at that wicked place, but he was too hooked on the heady scent of pheromones to report it at that point. He just avoided them, able to tell them from the others by giving them a quick stroke. If they slapped at him or sobbed then he moved on to the next stall and repeated the test. He didn’t want to take a Doe without consent. He was there one day, buried inside of a Fawn who was propped up on a stool at standing height. Her tits were bouncing beautifully as he fucked her fast and hard when her heat quite suddenly ended. The scent vanished and John, on his third round, withered without that chemical prop. Grumbling in frustration he pulled out of the woman’s quickly drying body and staggered to the next stall.

It was a Buck. He’d never been with men before, and he’d not touched a Buck until now. He stumbled in, taking in the permeating scent of Rut, and dropped to his knees to prop up the legs before him. His swollen cock was leaking with need despite the fact he’d been stroking himself fervently. John located his hole amidst his thick leg fir and lapped at the clear, bitter fluids leaking from him. He easily pressed his tongue into the hole and the creature writhed, kicking him accidentally in the side with a sharp hoof. John grunted at the pain but otherwise ignored it. He quickly climbed the creature’s body and pressed inside, moaning as the tight heat surrounded him.

He was unable to stop himself, crying out in pleasure as it escalated higher and higher. Far too soon he was coming, grasping the cock in front of him to try and bring the Buck off as well. He came spectacularly, his huge cock spurting across his body as his arse clenched and pulled a fourth climax from John that left him collapsed on the floor, fading in and out of consciousness. John was pried up off the floor and laid out in another room with other men and women recovering from their high. He was there when the authorities raided the building and was dragged in for questioning. They hosed him off to get the stink of pheromones off of his body and left him sobbing and cold, rocking back and forth in a chair in an interrogation room.

“You raped them,” The silvering man in front of him shouted, slamming photographs down on the table, “You raped all those Bucks and Does you shameless _cock!_ ”

John jumped, eyes darting about as trails danced in front of his eyes, “I didn’t… I’m not…”

“The fuck you didn’t,” The man snarled, pacing in front of him, “You disgust me.”

“If they struggled I stopped. I didn’t want… some of them were there willingly. I found them.”

“Did you?”

“I _tried_ to,” John choked, “Fuck. If I ever see Harry again I owe her the biggest apology.”

“Who’s Harry?” The man demanded, leaning over him with narrowed eyes.

“Shit! NOT involved in this! Sh-she’s my sister. An alcoholic. I had _no idea_ when she told me she couldn’t stop drinking… I just... _._ Please. Lock me up. I don’t want to hurt anyone and I’ll do _anything_ for a fix.”

“Sure,” He grinned, “Just write all that out for me and sign at the bottom. I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

John grabbed the pen and paper, dragging them towards him, but had barely put pen to paper when the door to the interrogation room was thrown open.

“John!” A voice shouted out, deep and smooth as honey.

John’s head shot up and his eyes widened. A Buck; an absolutely _gorgeous_ Buck with curly hair and legs up to heaven. He walked in dressed in a suit with a nearly frantic look on his face. John’s fingers went numb and the pen dropped to the desk.

“ _There_ you are!” The Buck sighed in relief, then crossed the threshold with a sharp clatter of hooves, “I’ve been out of my _mind_ with worry!”

The Buck leaned down and caught John’s head in his grasp before pressing their lips together for a scorching kiss… through which he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “ _Play along_.”

“Sherlock?” The graying DI asked, his tone uncertain.

Sherlock straightened and replied; “You remember when you pulled me out of that _shithole_ that I told you I was working with someone? Well this is he. John, meet Lestrade. I hope he’s taken good care of you darling?”

“I… yeah, just…” John stammered, his cock hardening painfully in the prison garb they’d given him to wear. _Oh no…_

“I know,” Sherlock soothed, stroking John’s cheek and staring into his eyes, “You’ve been through so much. We both have. My brother has a therapist on stand-by to help us get through this. I want you to know I don’t think of you as unfaithful. I never did.”

John forced a relieved expression onto his face and smiled weakly up at him, “Doctors? They’ll…” John licked his lips, “They’ll put me in a… a… rehab or something?”

“They’ll put us both there, and all the other victims as well. We’ll need to detox from the chemicals they put into us to keep our Heats and Ruts going, and you lot will need to come down off of our pheromones as well. That’s best one naturally as they wanes from our bodies.”

“Naturally?!” Lestrade spat out, “Wait a second, they’re putting you in with your _rapists_ to _fuck it off?!_ ”

“Basically,” Sherlock replied, “But with doctors to supervise, run some sensitivity training for those who tend to objectify us, and with the understanding that anyone who causes an issue will be booted out. In fact, we need you to start a line-up. While none of us could see our assailants, we could _smell_ them. I’ve talked several other Does into helping me identify who was there for malicious reasons so they can be sent to the hospital to detoxify the hard way.”

John was having trouble following his words because his erection was level with his head. Lestrade took that moment to glance down and at John and noticed Sherlock was aroused. He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose as he sighed in frustration.

“You two are trying to get me to leave so you can fuck, aren’t you?” He asked.

“Well that _would_ be convenient,” Sherlock nodded with a polite smile.

“Not happening,” Lestrade replied, “He _raped_ you, Sherlock. We found him covered in your DNA. You’re not thinking straight.”

“He’s my _boyfriend_ , Graham,” Sherlock snapped, “I’m not thinking straight because I’m thinking _gay_.”

“It’s Greg, and how come you never mentioned a boyfriend _before_ this whole caper?” Lestrade asked, folding his arms while John began to nuzzle the cock hidden behind far too many layers of fabric.

“How come you never- _oh gods_ \- asked?” Sherlock retaliated, his voice starting to crack.

John finally had that thick cock out and was lapping at the tip. Lestrade apparently decided the battle was already lost and left with a scoff of indignation. John found himself dragged out of his chair and seated forcibly on the table he’d been facing. Hands stripped him of his clothes and Sherlock turned to press back against him.

“ _In me_. Now!” Sherlock gasped, “It’s _agony_!”

John groaned his agreement and tugged those gorgeous hips into his lap, pressing up into the tall Satyr with eager snaps of his hip. Slick fluids dripped down onto his thighs and he groaned as the pleasure began to mount fast. He slowed himself, reaching down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock as the Buck rocked into him. He knew he needed to last as long as possible to bring the suffering creature off. He slid into the madness of the Rut, moaning as he stroked Sherlock’s thick cock. The world blurred around the edges, and John’s vision faded in and out.

Days passed. He often started fucking Sherlock only to come around while sitting sleepily in group therapy, surrounded by sobbing Does, Bucks, Men, and Women. He would wrestle himself into control, sitting up and remembering his dignity. He’d wipe the drool off of his face and reply when spoken too, but he hated it. Slowly but surely the time he was conscious was becoming longer and longer; Sherlock’s needs were diminishing and becoming more that of a normal Satyr rather than a drug addled one.

John spent a few hours each day simply talking to Sherlock, learning who the brilliant Faun was and listening to his wild stories of crime solving. That was how he’d found out that he hadn’t gone home in between trips to the club like he’d originally thought, not after the first time he’d fled at least. Instead he’d been kept locked up for most of the time while they used his cards to milk his accounts of his army pension. They’d kept him near the stalls so he’d be high at all times, but he’d only rarely been allowed in to touch them, only being tossed into the rooms when they needed a new client to see how exciting it could be. He mostly spent his time tossing off while his mind supplied him with what it wanted to see. That was how Sherlock knew him so well. Apparently they’d spoken through a hole in the wall while John was out of his gourd, so much so that when John had touched him on that last day Sherlock had recognized him right away and the climax had brought him out of his chemically induced and extended Rut. He’d managed to pick his lock and escape, calling Lestrade from his pimp’s office and getting them all out of that hellhole.

“Honestly I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen you talking to Lestrade. All the shit you put yourself through for a case!”

Sherlock shrugged, “I had to stop it. They were suffering. I just never expected to get dosed and trapped myself.”

John struggled for a moment and then forced himself to ask the question, “Sherlock, did I rape you?”

“No,” Sherlock replied easily.

“Did… did anyone else?”

Sherlock’s eyes slid away and John wished he could take the words back. Instead he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Sherlock shrugged, “Sorry won’t get my virginity back.”

“Oh gods,” John whispered in horror, “How long were you _there_?”

Sherlock was by no means a young Buck, but a Satyr that stayed virgin past puberty was a rarity indeed. They literally _craved_ sex, and their scent was erotic to both their own kind and Humans when their bodies were demanding to be bred. However, when John asked that question and then slapped his hand over his mouth Sherlock merely laughed at him.

“John,” Sherlock chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m only _half_ Satyr. I’d never had a Rut before then. I was there a month longer than you were.”

“Well that’s… good then. You have some sort of… er… religious belief?”

“To keep me virginal? No. Just a highly dedicated passion for science and a good mystery. I’ve never had the time for a relationship… before now.”

“Is this… going somewhere then?” John asked hesitantly.

“If you’d like it to,” Sherlock replied, “I enjoy your company, and you enjoy mine. Besides, you lost your bedsit while you were away being used for a prop in a sex factory.”

John snorted and their subject moved on to chess and the merits of strategy, a conversation Sherlock strategically won in short order- but not nearly as short as their chess games were.

Finally their sexual desires were returned to the average allotment for a male of their respective species and ages- which meant just a bit more horny on Sherlock’s end- and they’d stopped blacking out completely. Each was warned that they should avoid Heat and Rut for at least a year and Sherlock was given medication to hold his off. It had dreadful side effects and John didn’t bat an eye when he tossed it in the bin the second they were out the door. Instead they went back to Sherlock’s home on Baker Street where he was introduced to a lovely Doe named Mrs. Hudson who cooed over John and called him Sherlock’s mate until he got a bit doe eyed himself.

Sleeping in a bed together was so familiar that John doubted he’d be comfortable sleeping alone anymore. That thought alone sent him snuggling up against a furry backside, giggling at the wiggle of a tail against his belly, to wrap himself around warm Satyr.

“You’re always so hot.”

“You know full well we run at a higher body temperature,” Sherlock scoffed.

“I love you,” He replied with a yawn, and then froze in horror. He’d been thinking it for weeks, but to _say it out loud_ , and to a Buck who scorned sentiment as a weakness in the loosing side! He was committing romantic suicide!

“Mm,” Sherlock replied with his own yawn, “Of course you do.”

“Yeah,” John replied with a sigh, glad that Sherlock had spared him an emotional flaying.

They were asleep in minutes and John didn’t think of it until morning when he woke to find Sherlock cooking in the kitchen.

“What’s all this then?” John asked in surprise, “I didn’t know you could cook, lazy horns.”

“Well,” Sherlock replied, looking anxious, “I wanted you to know I could… erm… _provide_ for us. Care for us. For anyone small and helpless in our lives… that sort of thing.”

“Are you pregnant?” John asked in alarm.

“No! Gods, no. We’ve been so careful I’d suspect divine intervention,” Sherlock laughed anxiously, “However… if I were to… _become_ pregnant. I wanted you to know that I can feed a child.”

Sherlock nodded as though he’d made quite the point and then turned back to the sink to _do the dishes_. John only just managed not to faint away. Only just. Then Sherlock’s words sank in.

“Sherlock, are you courting me?”

Sherlock paused a moment and then nodded at the skillet. John smiled, his whole body feeling light and warm.

“Love you too, you brilliant Fawn,” John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek and then shoved him out of the way, “Now move over before you scratch up my pans.”


End file.
